I’m a guy in my early 60s. I own a dress shop. Right away, you are thinking that I am gay, right? A lot of men in this town figure that too. Little do they know that I’m getting more affection from some their wives than they are. Their teen daughters too.

The shop sells fancy dresses. Wedding dresses. Bridesmaid dresses. Party dresses. Formals.

I never planned to open a dress shop. My ex-wife started it. As it grew, I became involved in the business end, then gradually became very involved in the fashion side and customer service.

About 25 years ago, my at-that-time wife decided she wanted more excitement in her life, including a more exciting partner. She divorced me and moved to New York City. (I’m not going to tell you where I live, but, suffice to say, it’s pretty boring out here, at least for most people.) Since I enjoyed running the store, she sold her half of it to me.

Lots of women who come in are “horny housewives.” Their husbands have lost interest in them. In some cases, the women are looking for sexy dresses to get back their husbands’ attention. But in most cases, they are nervous about looking good at some posh event, like a high school reunion or wedding.

I stay in good shape. I read fashion magazines for business. I know how to look good, especially in comparison to the other guys around here, most of whose knuckles drag on the ground when they walk. So, lots of women come on to me. Also, lots of women are really turned on about making out with a guy who they think is gay or bisexual. (No, I’m neither. If you called me “metrosexual”, I would frown but not really disagree with you.)

It’s in my business interest to make women feel sexy and attractive. And I like to do it, anyway. So I might say something about “finding a dress that will accent your gorgeous breasts.” If the woman seems receptive, I might also touch their breasts while fitting them. Most of my customers are very receptive. So business is great. This is a wealthy town. People have money to burn and not many places to burn it.

Especially on week days, I usually have at most one customer at a time in the store. In the dressing room area, many women calmly strip down to their bras and panties, or even just their panties to try on dresses that I hand them. (Remember that they think I’m mostly gay. And old enough to be their father or even grandfather.)

It usually doesn’t go beyond flirting. But often enough, women seem to want to prove to themselves that they are still sexually attractive. So they will push it farther, kissing me, grabbing my dick, and even going down on me.

My apartment is attached to the store. Sometimes women ask if they can possibly drop by in the evening to pick up a dress. That nearly always means that they want to be ravished. I oblige them.

Most of this does not happen with girls getting wedding dresses. (Bridesmaids, yes, sometimes. Usually the bride has picked out bridesmaid dresses that look ugly on some of the poor girls. I, of course, do my best to make them feel attractive.) But I have gotten blow jobs from brides. Helps their nerves to suck on something, I guess. Like my dick. Actually, maybe they are also feeling like they won’t have sex with anyone but their husband as long as they are married. Last fling sort of thing.

The other big part of my business is teen girls getting formals and party dresses. You probably think that they would have no interest in an old, maybe gay, guy like me. You would be wrong.

The rumor seems to have gotten around that the more they come on to me, the lower price they will get. That if they go down on me, they’ll get a real bargain. I didn’t start the rumor, and it isn’t true. All they have to do is bat their eyelashes at me because, like most men, I’m a sucker for cute teen girls.

The girls, like their mothers, think nothing of stripping in front of me. It isn’t unusual on Saturday afternoon in the months before prom season, for me to be surrounded with deliciously nubile girls in microscopic thong panties so thin that they hide nothing. Frequently, the girls’ mothers are there too. They seem to think nothing of their little girls parading around essentially nude in front of me. They may well even unzip their daughter’s dress and take it off. Mmmmmm, eye candy!

One girl, at most 14, really liked a slinky mini-dress I brought in to her. (We were alone in the store.) She was standing there in a training bra and regular-sized panties (Victoria’s Secret panties, but ones that would cause panty lines.) I mentioned that she wouldn’t be able to wear a bra with the dress (she didn’t need one yet anyway) and that she would need to wear thong panties.

Without even blushing, she calmly removed her bra and handed it to me. Then she put one hand on my arm to steady herself, and with other hand pushed down her panties, let them drop on the floor, and stepped out of them to try on the dress. She only had a few wisps of pussy hair and cute little puffy breasts. No, I didn’t do anything except openly admire her sweet young body, which she clearly was proud of. She grinned when I gazed at her little tits and pussy mound, then turned her around to look at her plump bottom. She giggled when I said “My, my, you are developing into quite the young woman.”  I’m pretty sure she went home and played with herself. I sure did! (She put the dress on her daddy’s credit card.)

When I was their age, you had to take a “nice” girl out quite a few times and buy her presents before she would even let you get to second base. No girl would ever go down on you unless she was from the wrong side of the tracks.

But now, fairly often, teen girls want to go beyond flirting with me, crazy as that sounds. It’s amazing how good teen girls are at giving blow jobs.

Younger than 18, I gently stop them. Except the first time it happened. I was alone with this 12 or 13 year old girl. (She was graduating from junior high school.) She “accidentally” dropped her training bra on the floor. When she knelt down, she deftly unzipped me and pulled my cock into her mouth in one movement. (Sure, I was erect. I was alone with a beautiful little doll wearing nothing but teeny tiny, almost transparent thong panties.)

My mouth said “No, honey, you mustn’t.” But my dick said “Yes, yes, yes!” in her mouth. (I hadn’t gotten laid for a while and I was really horny. Looking down at her adorable face, with her sweet lips around my cock, I came almost immediately.) At 12 or 13, she must have already had lots of practice. She sucked me like a pro, swallowing every drop of cum.

I regret that I didn’t stop her. But it was one hell of an orgasm. I put her on my lap, apologized, and had a long talk with her about sexual diseases, pregnancy and having other kids’ respect. She told me she had been sucking boys at parties since she was 10. It was no biggie. She hardly even considered it sex.

She has turned out to be a fine young woman, so I guess there was no lasting harm. She comes into the shop frequently, at slow times, of course. Now that she’s a woman, I don’t hold back one bit. Her husband is probably one of the many guys who think I’m a “fairy” but clearly he isn’t man enough to satisfy her. Not to brag, but I am.

Since then, when younger girls start to go down on me or rub my crotch, I do gently stop them. Ok, I let them hug me and press their little pussy mounds against my dick, and give me kisses that are a little too long to thank me for giving them discounts. Beyond that, I get all I need from their moms and big sisters. Wink.

The end

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